


Bound Together Without Ties

by Useless_Fanfictions



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Incest, Boss Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester, Brother/Brother, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Smith - Freeform, Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, Explicit Sex, Heartbroken Sam, Incest, Lost of memories, M/M, Sam Wesson - Freeform, Top Sam Winchester, at first - timid sam, that changes, they don't know at first, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2020-09-01 18:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20262847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Useless_Fanfictions/pseuds/Useless_Fanfictions
Summary: Anonymous Prompt:Smith/Wesson first time & seeing but not understanding why they both have the same tattoo. When memories are returned they both want to be together in that way but are too scared to act on it but do eventually. I don’t mind angst as long as ends happy.Or,The one where memories are the only barrier between the boys. No amount of alcoholism, jokes, or denial will be able to rebuild the wall that they blew through.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! Here I am with another Wincest prompt!! 
> 
> Here to you, my beautiful anonymous lurker! Thank you for the prompt and hope it satisfies. My original plan was to fill it with one massive story, but I didn't like the way it was all coming together. So here is a multi-chapter fic instead! You're welcome (●'◡'●)ﾉ♥
> 
> Tags will be updated as the story progresses.
> 
> (Please read the note at the bottom to hear about my update schedule!)
> 
> Enjoy!!

**1**

_ Sam’s breath pants out in moist bursts. His hands slid down the curve of the body in front of him, a moan echoing in his ear. His blood is pumping and there is extra saliva in his mouth as he kisses up a jaw bone. Sam’s body presses up to her front and he feels her breasts - small, round, and perfect - pressing into his stomach.  _

_ He really has to crank his neck down and bend his back to reach her - a product of his height - but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care when her thighs come up and wrap around his hips. He presses the beginning of his erection into her crotch and together they feel the warmth.  _

_ “Oh,” she whispers, the single word barely falling off her lip.  _

_ Sam grins and lifts her up, off of the wall. His legs carry both of them easily, he guesses the countless hours he spent training and running really pays off. Not only was he strong on the job, but he is also strong in the bedroom too.  _

_ “Fuck, Sam,” she moans out and his hips jump forward as he basically drops her onto the bed. He grinds himself right into her and groans loud and long as pleasure shoots down his spine.  _

_ She’s quick to work his pants off then, says she’s eager to see his “package.” If Sam was thinking any clearer he could have made a snappy remark, tell her it is all for her or something else he’s heard in the crappy porn he’s seen over the years. Except that he can’t because his mind isn’t all there.  _

_ Sam turns animalistic with pleasure as she gently pulls him out of his underwear and graces him with a few strokes.  _ Yeah, _ Sam thinks,  _ she’s definitely held plenty of dicks before.  _ Not that he was shaming her, he was actually complimenting her in a strange twist of words.  _

_ He tells her this and grabs her face in both of his hands. He makes sure to kiss her deeply. Their faces move and noses smash into each other but Sam’s started up a dirty grind that feels oh-so-good and they only kiss faster and faster. Her hands move up - leaving his dick to brush up against her panties-clad crotch  _

_ (when did she lose her pants?) _

_ \- and held tightly onto his shoulders. He moves over top of her and feels the little pricks of her nails in his back. He groans again, the sound deep, rumbles into her mouth where he’s got his tongue and smashes his hips to hers.  _

_ “Come on, Sam,” she moans.  _

_ He would have been okay with just kissing and grinding until they both got off. They fit well together and she was an amazing kisser, but he knew what she wanted. He knew that she wanted to be taken so high it would be a while before she came down.  _

_ He rolls them over so that she’s on top and slips his hands down her back. He takes her panties off and grabs fistfuls of her ass cheeks. Damn, she has a nice body and she grinds her naked, wet lips against the underside of his dick once their underwear is gone. Sam bucks up and moans, throwing his head back, while his cock is trapped between her womanhood and his stomach.  _

_ “Yuh’ like that?” She husks in his ear.  _

_ He can’t resist biting at her lips and soothing it with his tongue afterward. He pumps his hips forward and she slides down so that the head of his dick prods at her soaked entrance. It sets off waves of pleasure and he moans outright. Sam usually doesn’t talk during sex, it doesn’t mean he isn’t vocal.  _

_ Her hair falls in between their faces and all around her head and so Sam grabs onto the back of her head, attempting to move it all away. He barely gets any of it from their frantic mouths but he doesn’t care, not when she starts a continuous grind against his dick.  _

_ He flips them again, not going the other way but the same way as before and they run out of bed quickly. They don’t fall off, but her head and shoulders dangle over the side. He still cradles her skull so she doesn’t topple over and mouths at her neck and behind her ear. His other hand slides up her side and grabs onto one of her boobs. Fuck, they are good.  _

_ “Yeah… please.” Her voice was like honey, thick and sweet.  _

_ “You ready?” He asks her, about to line his dick in and  _ plunge _ .  _

_ “Not like this,” she scrambles up back onto the bed fully. She falls and tucks her shoulder into the bed and rolls in a way that ends up with her back to him.  _

_ Sam grins at her. She pushes her knees up and tilts her hips up - she was presenting to him full-bitch style. He laughs and kisses down her back. She wanted to play like this, he would deliver. He climbed on top of her and grabbed his cock - takes a second to pump his fist once or twice to give himself pleasure - and slowly feeds his dick into her wet hole.  _

_ “So  _ big _ ,” she moans into the pillow.  _

_ He won’t stop groaning and he doesn’t stop until his balls slap into her as well. Holy Christ, she felt good around him, squeezing him and sending pleasure up his entire body. It’s been a while since he’s gotten off and he can’t remember it feeling this good. He pulls back and pushes in, only going slow for a thrust or two.  _

_ Then he really gives it to her. He moves his hips in and out, his long dick dragging against every good spot inside of her. Her hips jump all over the place as he pleasures her. _

_ “God, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”  _

_ One of her legs give out and they fall to the left side. Sam didn’t care because she was screaming his name and he was pumping his hips in and out of her fast enough to rock the headboard of the bed into the wall. Sam kept moving, she was groaning and grabbing onto the pillow and sheets around them. _

_ Sam leaned forward and licked at the corner of her jaw again. “You’re so good…” Sam whispered.  _

_ She spasmed again and Sam grinned as he puffed breath onto her face. He was two seconds away from his orgasm he knew it. She was squeezing him really good now as she tipped over. He threw his head back again and grabbed at her - his grip bruising - as he emptied inside of her. Pleasure shook his entire being.  _

**2**

Sam moved his hips over to find a new place to lay and feels the warm cum in his underwear. His eyebrows scrunch together as his face contorts in disgust. He still doesn’t open his eyes though. 

Sleep still clouds his mind and he can tell it’s still late. There are no sounds of the morning and traffic outside is still the same dull it is at night. He knew it was still night because the sun wasn’t bursting through his window to blind him like it did every morning.

“Aughhh…” he groans and moved over, away from the wet spot on his bed. 

He hasn’t had a wet dream that sweet since his teenage years. It’s also been that long since he came in his pants. He didn’t give it much thought, instead, he rolled away and let sleep carry him back under. He’d deal with it all in the morning. 

**3**

_ He was in the same bed as before but it was obvious some time has passed. His left arm was numb but regaining some feeling as if someone had been laying on it to cut the circulation of his blood flow off but recently had gotten up - that might have been what woke him up.  _

_ He tilts his head and groans, his eyes opening to a dark room. The room wasn’t entirely dark because the curtains were pulled open and the bright moon was shining in.  _

_ Sam sat up and felt the cold breeze blow over his naked torso and hardened his nipples. He was completely naked but there was a sheet that covered his lower half. It was obvious that this was a continuation of his previous dream but just after the sex. He looks around, where was his partner? _

_ There’s a low growl beside him to his left - he’d been looking the other way - and he twists his head around. At first, he’s confused at what he’s seeing but then recognition floods through him.  _

_ It’s his partner from the other dream. Now she’s perched on the edge of the windowsill of the  _ open _ window. Her face is contorted into a large grimace that shows off teeth that are sharp and canine-like. Her eyes glow a light blue and her pupil's sharp points.  _

_ The sight is alarming - or at least it should be - but Sam isn’t surprised in the way he should be. He jumps into action and is out of bed in a couple of seconds, his instincts taking over. His long legs carry him fast but she had a head start on him. She’s turning and leaping out of the window before he can get a good hold on her. His fingers brush against her bare back before she’s gone into the night.  _

_ He rocks back onto the heals of his feet and puffs out a long breath. She was gone and he couldn’t grab her. He’s conscious for a second because he is standing butt-naked in front of an open window and just because it’s nighttime doesn’t mean there isn’t someone there. He comes father into the apartment and hides behind the side of the wall.  _

Dammit, _ he thinks. If only he’d been quicker, he could have had a better hold on her.  _

_ To do what? He didn’t know- _

**4**

(To do what?)

Sam woke with a headache. It wasn’t the first time this past week that the first thing to greet him was blinding pain. He groans and sits up, covering his eyes with his hands. 

It was definitely morning this time, the sun was there to greet him. And fuck, it was bright. 

Sam thinks about his weird-ass dream for a second because it still clung to his conscious mind while he got up - his underwear sticking to him from the first part of the dream - and walked to the bathroom. He needed to relieve his bladder and clean himself up. He contemplated getting in the shower but decided against it because he was running a little late already.

On his way out the door, his mind finally caught up to him. It was Maddison that he dreamt about.  _ Maddison? _ The Maddison that just broke his heart and made him cut town? Sam pauses in the doorway as his breath is knocked out of him. 

“Woah…” he makes a sound that is akin to a moan, leaned his side and forehead against the wood. It hit him so hard, how much he missed her at that moment. His breath wheezed out. 

It was a couple more minutes of Sam standing awkwardly in the doorway of his apartment breathing funny. It took him a while to control everything before he stood up, wiped his eyes, straighten his shirt, and walked out of the door. 

Why did he dream of Maddison? And why did she have those  _ teeth _ ? 

He didn’t know so he pushed it from his mind. Sam ran his hands down the front of his chest and stomach, straightening his shirt and clearing his palms of sweat at the same time. He took in a shaking breath as he got on with his way to work. He wouldn’t think of it anymore and then maybe he would stop having such weirdly vivid dreams. 

When he got to work he walked in and kept his head low. After this morning, Sam didn’t want to talk to anyone or deal with anything extra today. He wasn’t sure if it was his dream or if he was just missing Maddison even more today. He hates feeling like this because he really can’t do it anymore, which is why he got away from that city, from their life, from her. He really just-

“Sam!” Ian calls from his cubicle. 

Sam suppresses a sigh and lifts his head up to find the short man standing behind his chair. By the looks of it - his chair still pulled in, a few papers in his hand, and his computer off - Ian just arrived. That means he hasn’t started working and that he was actually on time. Sam was impressed. 

“Dude, you’re here on time?” Sam inquires, lifting his voice a little and shrugging his shoulders. He was trying to ease the tension from them and raise his spirits because he didn’t want anyone to ask him why he was upset.

As much as Sam enjoyed talking to Ian, he was glad the older man wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. Not that Sam needed to feel smarter, just so he didn’t have to work harder to have a conversation. Joking with this man was easy.

“Yeah, I know…” he rubbed the back of his neck and looked passed Sam. “It’s a little weird, but I just woke up on time and shit this ‘smorin.” 

Sam nodded and turned away from him, turning to his own cubicle. He pulled his chair out and sat down in his chair, he heard Ian do the same thing behind him. It was time to start working and start his day. He sucks in a deep breath and releases it slowly, pushing all thoughts from this morning from his head. This was his new life, new job, new self. It was his new beginning. 

**5**

Nearly two weeks later, the west end elevator broke like the piece of shit it was. Sam’s biggest irritation with working in a place like this was that the higher-ups controlled the bank account and you know what they don’t spend the money on? Equipment. Especially if it’s mainly for the people below them.

“Son of a…” Paul grumbled next to him. 

Sam nodded his head and sighed. They were looking at the piece of paper taped to the closed doors of the elevator, “Sorry. Please use the other, this one is broken!” it read. 

Sam waved his goodbyes to Paul and Susan who were standing by him. They were going to take the stairs because that exit from the building was closer to their cars. It’s where all of the tech support employees parked - in Parking Lot C - whereas anyone that worked in a higher position parked their, often nicer and more expensive, cars in parking lots A and B. 

_ It’s a stupid hierarchy thing, _ Sam thinks as he walks through the rows and sections of cubicles, there was only a slight twinge of bitterness there. 

The problem with taking that other elevator is that most of the higher-ups take it. Especially now, at closing time. Sam rolled his mental eyes as his feet continued to carry him on his way. It was kind of ridiculous how they all still reverted to stupid cliques and social groups as if they were still in high school. Why did it matter if the people who worked in the higher floors and in private offices made more money? Why did it matter if they went home in nice, flashy cars and returned to trophy wives and nice homes? Sam laughed as he tried to fool even himself. Working his lame cubicle job was kind of pathetic. 

Sam was alone in the little area outside of the elevator. Most of the yellow shirt-wearing employees must have been a little intimidated to use this elevator. Oh well, Sam was a big guy and that usually kept him out of trouble. One of the power douchebags want to say something to him? Let them. 

The silver doors opened and Sam breathed a sigh of relief to see that no one was there. He stepped in - felt the floor rock with his weight - and sat quietly as the doors closed against after a second. There shouldn’t be very many issues here, there was only one floor he had to go through before he was free to escape to the bus stop-

He realized the elevator was pulling up instead of down.  _ Goddammit, _ Sam’s shoulders slumped and his head hung for a second, s _ o much for just a quiet elevator ride. _ Sam started to picture who would have pulled the metal box up so far - he watched the number of what floor it was one keep going up - and he imagined the worst. It was probably Mr. Adler who hated all of his employees. He would probably kick Sam out of the elevator and make him walk all the way down the stairs. 

It finally stopped on the 13th floor. The familiar ding rang out and Sam held his breath. He wasn’t flinching… more like,  _ preparing _ for the worst. 

The man who walked in was not the person he was expecting. He was no overweight with gray, thinning hair. He was… He was young - not much older than Sam himself - and attractive. He had short-cropped hair and ears that stuck out. Low eyes and a straight nose, thick lips and long lashes. 

Sam couldn’t help but stare. This man, he was- 

(gorgeous, beautiful, attractive)

way better looking than Sam’s mind had pictured. This is the type of face you see in shaving ads and as male models. Not in business suits in an elevator.

This was also the man that Sam’s been dreaming about. He wore different clothes now - a nice black jacket and striped shirt with an ironed collar, and a red tie to top it off - and his hair was slicked back into a professional-looking comb-over. 

Sam was sure that was him, though. 

The man came in, looked at the rows of buttons on the panel in front of Sam - the first floor and exit was already pressed - and stepped to the other back corner that Sam was not currently occupying. Now he was holding his phone under his nose and stared at it with eyes of concentration. Sam watched as he was probably checking his emails or something important. 

Sam blinked and saw those same hands expertly gripping the engraved handle of a Colt M1911A1 as it fires. Sam dreamt of this over and over with the sound of the shot ringing in his head. 

The guy must have sensed Sam’s eyes on him, he looks up from his phone and over at Sam. The taller man watched while it happens and he isn’t ready for those green eyes to be looking right at him. They are bright in color and they meet Sam’s gaze evenly, without any fear or feelings. Sam can’t look away. 

Seconds pass and Sam feels the tension creep up his shoulders and choke around his neck. He sucks in a breath that is close to a gasp and says, “Do I know you?”

He wasn’t sure why he asked it, but it sounded like the thing to say. He didn’t want to blurt out something stupid and come off as creepy or something. How else is he supposed to start this conversation?

The inside of his cheeks makes a smacking sound as he opens his mouth to say in a gruff voice, “No, I don’t think so.” 

He looks back down at his phone and this time even Sam looks away. He knows that maybe he should just let the conversation drop but he can’t fight the deja vu he gets every time he looks over. He knows where the man is from

(his dreams)

but why?

“I’m sorry, man,” Sam hears himself saying. He can’t just let the conversation drop because this man is  _ real _ and he is standing right next to Sam. “You just look really familiar.” He stares at their distorted reflections in the elevator doors as he talks, too embarrassed by the small amount of neediness in his voice. 

The man looks ahead too and they both rock with the giant metal box for a few seconds. No one else gets on and they are standing there together. 

It’s when the ding rings out again that the other guy responds, “Save it for the health club, pal.” 

Sam watches him walk away and wonders for the first time why his first reaction was to find the man attractive when he never has had that reaction before? Sam’s not gay, or else he would have known sooner. This was different. Yes, the man was attractive, but something deep inside Sam started to warm up when he saw him. Something that led right to his core.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hello there. Guess you thought you wouldn't see me for another two weeks. HA! Here I am!
> 
> Don't start expecting these fast updates though. I'm still on summer break right now, but my classes start this weekend. So as soon as that happens, I won't have as much time to write. Which means I'll probably stick to my schedule. And it's not much like a strict schedule, I just set that date as a due date, of sorts. Here I am just turning my assignment in early. ;)
> 
> Anywho, hope you enjoy!

**1**

“Coffee break?” Ian suggests with a full-mouth grin that wrinkles up the corner of his eyes and shows his age. 

“Yeah, for sure,” Sam says. 

The two of them stand up and the jokes and lightness are still thick between them. Sam shudders again at the thought of Ian’s “GMILF” as he put it. Sam pushes the nasty jokes they had just been making as they walk. 

He follows Ian around his row of cubicles to stand next to the short wall of Paul’s. Paul is an older gentleman, with glasses and a receding head of gray hair. His shoulders slumped in and Sam could tell just by looking at him that he was focused on something. The computer screen shone brightly off of his glasses. 

“Paul,” Ian said. “Time for a refuel, buddy,” he patted the top of the wall and sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth. It was a habit of his, Sam tried not to notice it a whole lot, even if it was a little annoying. 

“Sorry. No time,” he said, his fingers still tapping at the keyboard. For as long as Sam has known him - which hasn’t been long - Paul has never been a fast typer. He never taught himself the proper way with your index fingers on the f and j keys, so the older man wouldn’t be able to go very fast. Except now, his fingers didn’t stop. 

Sam’s eyebrows came down in confusion as he watched Paul. Sam wasn’t a slacker when it comes to most things, however, with this job there was a lot of room left open for him to slack. Also, Paul and Ian were major slackers and so Sam let himself follow this time around. 

Ian’s face shone loudly with confusion as he asks, “Since when?” He waited for a few seconds and when there was still no answer he tried again, “Dude, we get paid by the hour.” 

Paul snapped back, “working!” 

Ian took a small step back and looked at Sam with ‘holy shit, someone’s in a mood’ look on his face. ”Okay…”

Sam’s mouth lifted half-way in a small huffing laugh as they both turned around and headed in the direction of the break room. “He seems stressed,” Sam suggested. 

Ian took a lot of amusement from that because that’s the kind of person he is. He makes light out of any situation. Sam, however, noticed that his coworker wasn’t in the best of moods and there was probably a reason. 

They walked for a few steps, Ian biting his lip as he thought about it. “He’s probably just freaked,” he said. Sam bent lower to hear him better. “‘Cause he got busted surfing porn on the internet.”

Sam side-stepped in front of his friend, his disbelief evident on his face and in his voice, “No, no, no. Wait. When?”

Ian laughed and his playful smile was back, “He got sent up to H.R. yesterday.” 

Sam was glad to see the serious expression wiped from Ian’s face. It didn’t look good on him anyway and Sam’s had enough bad in his life that he doesn’t need more. 

Ian keeps going, “Guess they put the fear of God in him.” 

Ian walks ahead of Sam and they walk into the break room. Sam grabbed some coffee as Ian stole more pencils with the flimsy excuse of “running low at home.” Sam stood there while Ian laughed at him and his weird dreams. 

He barely paid him any mind though because Sam’s mind was buried. His dreams were weirdly vivid last night. He barely felt the pain from Ian’s laughter as he would any other day. He was too busy thinking about green eyes and full lips. 

**2**

_ The boy with the dark hair that hung straight over his dark eyes under straight eyebrows told them in a hushed voice, “I didn’t. The black smoke did.” _

_ Sam had just asked the kid how he ditched it. Sam didn’t know what _ it _ was. Except that he really seemed to know what it was, it just wasn’t in his conscious mind yet. Sam sat calmly and waited for the kid to elaborate on what he said- _

_ “Black smoke?” the man next to him said. _

_ That was the first time Sam noticed he was even sitting next to him. The voice that seemed to materialize out of nowhere had a face and a mouth, Sam took a second to not look away. It was _ the man _ but he didn’t know from where. Things were always confusing in Sam’s dreams. He couldn’t remember where he’d seen this man in the waking world - and yes he knew he was dreaming, that was a whole other thing. Sam just wanted these things to _make sense.

_ “It was everywhere,” the kid kept saying. Sam did everything he could to move his eyes away from the man closest to him, so he opted to look at the kid again. “I hid in the closet,” he looked down and dejected. _

_ Sam was so lost but still felt the hard jab of pity for the kid. That’s all he was, a fucking child. Sam didn’t know what they were talking about _

_ (black smoke?) _

_ but he figured it was something that someone his age probably shouldn’t be. _

_ “And when I came out,” he continued. “It was gone, and so was he.” _

_ Now Sam was double confused. They were talking about two different things now? _

_ The man next to same, that fucking man, sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees to stare at the kid. He looked at him with an intense, green-eyed stare. His straight nose and thick lips stood out. His stubbled chin fit on a strong jaw and Sam caught himself staring. With the guy sitting up like he was, Sam got more or his back of the head than anything. _

_ “Do you know where the black smoke went?” he asked. _

_ “No.” Sam saw the dude sink in his chair. He seemed to do the same in his own chair. Which means he was still reacting and absorbing everything that was happening around him, he just had little control over it. “But I know where it is.” _

_ That definitely got the man’s attention. _

_ That and the lights started to flicker. The air seemed to thin out and Sam felt the hairs on his arms and legs stand up, even under his jeans and sweatshirt sleeves. It was like there was electricity crackling throughout the air in the room. _

_ Both Sam and the beautiful man next to him looked around. He felt a sense of dread pour into his veins, it weighed him down for a moment or two while he looked around. It was so strange to Sam. He felt as if he should be scared, especially when the kid who knew what the hell he was talking about, mumbled, “they’re back.” _

_ Yes, there should definitely be some terror flooding Sam’s body because he didn’t know who ‘they’ were. It was such an ominous statement and the lights flashing didn’t fucking help. He caught a glimpse of the man next to him and he looked around wildly. All of these things were fear triggers for any other sane person. _

_ Except Sam didn’t feel it. He wasn’t afraid, he felt something akin to dread or readiness, but not fear. _

_ Even when the other man asked, “who?” _

_ The kid didn’t answer though. He fucking disappeared. Just like that, he was there one minute and then he faded and his image jerked for half a second and then he was no longer there. Sam stared at the wall that was behind the kid. How could he have just- _

_ It was a dream. Sam had to remind himself, _ it’s only a dream. None of this is real. _ It sure felt real, though. _

_ Sam picked his head up and met eyes with wide green ones. They both had the same look on their faces - had the kid really disappeared on them like that? Instead of the shock of the disappearing alone, he read more of annoyance on the other’s face. His eyes were tilted shut a little and his mouth twisted. _

_ Then Sam felt his face make a similar look and he couldn’t control it. The kid was gone and the lights started flickering faster and then there was this wind blowing at them from inside with no fan insight. Sam didn’t understand what was happening, he didn’t know why he was standing close to this so-fucking-familiar man. _

**3**

Sam snapped awake with eyes wide. There was some hair falling into his eyes and he saw nothing but a wall a few feet in front of him. 

It took him a second to realize where he was. He’d accidentally fallen asleep at his desk. 

He blinked a couple of times and looked around - Ian was gone from his desk and no one else was looking his way so

(thank fuck)

he must have managed to snap awake with a quiet gasp and go undetected. Sam sighs and shakes his leg for a second or so. He feels the warm reminisces of sleep trying to drag him down - the picture of tousled hair and a wide face - and he had to fight it. 

One glance at the clock made him realize that he only had a couple more hours left until his shift ends. Sam started to turn back to his desk. His gut felt weird and his mouth tasted nasty. He didn’t think he’d been asleep for that long. 

**4**

The familiar ding of the elevator in front of him did nothing to help Sam’s already fried nerves. God, he hated this. He hated that he was forced to take _ this _ elevator because stupid maintenance couldn’t be bothered to fix theirs. 

The door opened to reveal a full load. 

Sam repressed a sigh and ground his teeth together. Yes, he could get through this, no, it wouldn’t kill him. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t stop his chest from tightening and sweat to start to gather on the back of his neck. He hated this. He hated being looked down at. 

There were four people that he could see. Two men that stood in the back - two pretentious-looking salesman who quickly diverted their eyes from Sam when they saw what he was wearing - a woman who wore a suit, had a folder, and held her chin up so high Sam knew she was overcompensating for her lack of a position, and a younger lady in a purple shirt who sat with her arms crossed. Sam thought that maybe she was a secretary. 

Sam walked in as the doors finished opening and leaned to his left. Those people had been standing right in the middle and he had thought that those were the only ones there. 

He was wrong. 

As Sam moved his hand to press the button leading to the bottom floor, he looked up when he saw another pair of shoes that belonged to a person he hadn’t counted. And he was met with green eyes. 

Green eyes and perfectly made hair, and a sharp jaw, and an ironed suit and-

Sam rocked back on his heels to take a step back. He’d breathed in a little too sharply and gotten the man’s attention. Unlike everyone else in the room, this man didn’t see his bright yellow shirt and want to look away. Instead, he met Sam’s eyes. 

Sam had to look away. He turned his head - saw the man do the same in his peripheral - because he could not look into those eyes and not think

(_"__Do you know where the black smoke went?” _)

about his dream. He couldn’t help but think about how he’d moved in sync with the man behind his closed eyelids. How they had been able to meet each other’s stares evenly. 

The man in his dream was so different than the man standing on the other side of the elevator. 

The metallic ding sounded through and the doors open. Sam watched in panic as more of the other people started to leave. Sam thought about the last time he’d been in this metal box alone with this man; he’d been rude and Sam refused to admit his feelings had been hurt because he’s a grown-ass man.

Then the elevator was empty except those two. Sam prayed for anyone to get on - hell, he’d take Mr. Adler at this point - but no, his prayers were not answered. Sam’s mouth squeezed together as he watched the doors slide shut. 

The other man in the tiny box looked just as uncomfortable as Sam felt. 

Sam felt the tension building and he couldn’t stop fucking thinking about his dreams. Not just the one he had earlier that day, but ones that he’d had before. He looks down to the man's hands in his expensive-looking pants that stretch the front of them - Sam’s eyes got distracted by the considerable bulge he saw there - and remember those hands wrapped

(tightly around his-)

around the handle of a gun. Of the man’s gun that he always had. The engraved, golden handle fitting into that calloused palm. 

Sam tried to block his mind of those… _ other _ thoughts. He focused on the little irritation he had at the coincidence that he would be stuck in an elevator with _ this _ man. The man whose face is imprinted on the back of Sam’s eyeballs. It seemed unfair. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Sam heard himself saying. 

He wanted to know what this man thought about ghosts. About vampires and werewolves, and all of the other evils that go bump in the night that they seem to fight so well together every time he closes his eyes. And so he did.

The man seemed very skeptical at first,

(“you know, I haven’t given it much thought,”)

but by the end, it was clear to Sam that the guy did not believe. That felt weird to him, it didn’t sit well in his stomach and weighed on his lungs. Sam cleared his throat and blinked hard. There was something so… so… 

So indescribably _ wrong _ about this guys’ answers. And yes, Sam knew he was not lying. How he knew this, he did not know, but he did. The guy didn’t lick his lips or his eyebrows didn’t twitch as he talked - a couple of his tells. How did Sam know this guy's tells? They’ve just recently met. That was just another mystery to Sam.

“All right, look man,” he said. Sam rocked back on his heels and regarded the man who just interrupted him asking bluntly about his dreams with focus. “Uh- I don’t know you, ‘kay? But, I’m going to do a public service-”

His lips smacked as he talked and Sam remembers hearing it that first meeting. It sounds normal and expected coming from the man, even if Sam can’t remember anyone else ever making a sound like that mid-sentence. He also leans over and presses a new, closer, button on the pad next to him. Sam watches him while feeling the tiniest twinge of hurt.

He looks over and finishes talking, “-and uh, let you know that-that you overshare.” He nods while he says it and stares at Sam with those same dark and intense eyes. 

_ It has to be the lighting, _ Sam thinks. _ There’s no way someone’s eyes are _ that _ piercing and pretty. _Sam watches as the guy turns away and takes a step forward - just now realizing that the doors had opened and that he’d pressed the button for the floor they were on.

_ He needed a quick escape. _ Sam leans against the wall of the elevator when the door closes and he continues going down. He couldn’t believe the questions he’d asked the guy. Did he believe in ghosts? 

Sam groans and hangs his head in shame. Fuck, why did he start dreaming of this guy? 

A voice in the back of his head creeps up and creaks out that he’d been dreaming of the guy before he even met him. Sam pushes him down because he doesn’t want to feel the confusion that has plagued himself since he met those green eyes. He doesn’t want to know and he’d rather stay ignorant and addicted to the bliss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, your comments and kudos fuel me. Love you guys! 
> 
> Next update will be Sept. 12th or sooner!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oH MY FUCK. I LITERALLY THOUGHT THIS WAS ON TIME. I AM SO SORRY TO MY ANONYMOUS LURKER BECAUSE I THOUGHT I WAS DOING GOOD. I put the date wrong in my phone's reminders... so I finished up this chapter yesterday, checked it one my time and didn't realize until just now (right before posting it) when I saw when the last time this was updated. I told myself every three weeks and this hasn't been updated in FOUR WEEKS. I was one week off. I hope you can forgive me!!!
> 
> I do want to point out, I did finally tag the story with a top/bottom. I answered one of you guys in a comment when you asked which it would be and at that time, I didn't know. I have always been a fan of bottom!Dean because reasons. Mainly it being Sam's more dominate side in bed, but Sam Wesson seemed to be more timid and Dean Smith more of The Boss figure. So at first that's what'll be because that's kind of the roles they have now. Only, Sam Wesson and Dean Smith won't have sex, those who eventually do is Sam and Dean Winchester. And that sex will be top!Sam. Sorry to disappoint anyone, but this is also what the prompter wanted. 
> 
> Anywho, I hope you enjoy!!

****

**1**

Sam clicks his phone shut. The confusion he’d felt in the elevator a couple of days ago, the confusion that he didn’t want to think about, and the confusion that hasn’t left him alone. Yeah,  _ that  _ confusion is bigger than ever. 

“An animal hospital?” he whispers to himself - his voice nothing louder than a hoarse] whisper. 

His face contorts to fit the mold of mystery and confusion. His cell phone fell out of his hand and bounced from the bed to the floor - the crash barely registering in his mind - and he himself flopped onto the thin mattress. It was lumpy and uneven - no wonder he woke up every morning with a sore back. He wanted to close his eyes and let sleep take him, but he couldn’t stop the spinning behind his eyelids. The dancing of colors and splashes of thoughts that wouldn’t let his mind go. 

Why’d he even call Maddison in the first place? 

Sam didn’t know. There was a lot that he didn’t know. Like why was Paul dead? Why had he killed himself - in a microwave, of all things - two weeks before he retired? Why was Ian acting so weird now? Why had he called Maddison? Why had he gotten an animal hospital? So many fucking questions. 

Sam looked over to the clock next to his bed. It was still an hour off from the day-lights-saving that happened two weeks ago and he hadn’t changed it yet. It read 4;37AM, which meant it was actually five-thirty. Sam shouldn’t be awake right now. It wasn’t right and he wanted to be unconscious, but still… 

His latest dream kind of prevented him from sleeping right now. 

He had a name now. In his dream, he’d been walking around the forest with an older teenager. They’d been looking for a loved one and somehow Sam knew he was the more experienced one in the situation. He didn’t know what he was more experienced with or who this kid was, but he had a sense of fear that tingled his spine and rose the hairs on the back of his neck. 

The boy had yelled out a name, that of his sisters, “Haley!” Going along with the common themes of these dreams, he didn’t know who the girl was. He saw the concern on the kids face though, she was obviously missing and they were the rescue team. 

Then, as they were walking, Sam raised his hands up to his mouth. He sucked in a deep breath and he felt the force of this incoming scream before he even let loose. 

( _ “Dean!!” Sam’s voice cracked by the sheer volume in which he belted out the name. He needed to find him because without his- _ )

Sam had snapped awake then, the echo of his own voice breaking the slimy seal of his eyelids. 

_ Dean _ was the guy’s name. It seemed so perfect for him. Sam sat there and said it out loud, just to get a taste of it. The name rolled easily off his tongue and sounded familiar to his ears. No- actually, it didn’t roll off his tongue but rather  _ glided _ out of his mouth. Sam just knew he’s said that name before, probably a lot. It was a name to a person worth repeating.

He sat up and thought about his dreams for a while. He was trying to put a sense of order to them, but they were all jumbling together in his sleep-fogged mind. As tired as he was, he couldn’t fall asleep. Just a little while ago, after he’d first woke up, he thought about one of his earlier dreams with Maddison and realized how much he missed her. 

So he’d been stupid and called her. 

(“This is Seattle-Grace Animal Shelter. I’m sorry no one was able to answer your call, if you have an emergency please call our emergency number at ###-###-#### and someone will find you. If the situation is not dire, please leave your name, number, and reason for calling in the message. Thank you for calling Seattle-Grace Animal Shelter. Goodbye.”)

So why had he gotten a fucking animal shelter? It was the same number that he’d text and call her from a month ago. So  _ why _ ?

Sam last looked at the clock when it read 5:04 AM and was sleeping shortly after that. He’d gone to work that day very tired. 

  


**2**

Sam stood outside the bathroom hallway on the 13th floor fighting back tears. He wasn’t sure why he was crying exactly, Ian and he weren’t terribly close, but Sam still felt the sharp pang of grief. He felt it because it was someone he knew, someone he talked to. It’s the same gab you get when you hear of an old high school peer passing away too young or someone that you only new briefly. It’s the “oh, I’m sad he’s dead” kind of grief. 

He watched the one police officer and coroner carry away the gurney that had the body bag. Sam stood there with stiff shoulders and hands in his pockets. He cranked his neck so far to the side to watch them take the bed on wheels around the corner that his it began to ache. He watched for longer even after they disappeared from his site. 

Then he heard to his left, “...standing there in front of the mirror, and then-”

Sam looked over. His eyes followed his ears because he knew this was the guy that had been there when Ian had… done that. Except, Sam would be lying if he said that was the  _ only _ reason. 

Sam followed the voice like Eve followed the serpent. He recognized that voice the instant he heard it and looked over in time to see green eyes. They were many feet apart with many people in between and yet... Sam could see how terrified the man was. Like he’d seen a ghost or something. Which made Sam wonder.

The man licked his lips and turned back to the detective that was asking him to continue. He said more in a hushed voice, Sam couldn’t hear - he didn’t want to anyway. He didn’t want to hear about how Ian had killed himself - the murmurs in the halls had painted a perfectly good picture thank you very much.

Sam couldn’t believe, of all fucking people. This building was huge and the one attractive fuck that Sam had asked freaking weird questions to was the one with Ian when he… Sam still hadn’t come to terms with it. 

(Who stabs themselves with a pencil?)

It was hard to think about it. 

But why this guy? Why the guy whose face was burned into his retinas? The guy who painted his mental picture every night while he slept. 

Sam looked back to the now emptying hallway where they had taken Ian’s body. Why had he done the same thing Paul did? The guy never wears the company shirt, and yet, today he did. It was suspicious when Sam started to compare how they both became really work-related days leading up to their deaths. 

_ Coincidence? _ Sam thinks.  _ Probably not, Ian wasn’t one to work fast if he had to. And shit- what was it that he got called up to H.R. for just a few days ago?  _ Sam’s eyes moved back and forth and yet, he saw nothing. He was too buried in his own head. Maybe if he dug a little deeper, he’d be able to figure it out.

  


**3**

“I need to see you in my office -  _ now _ .” 

Sam’s eyes widened as he registered that the voice coming through the phone’s speaker was not just another customer It was a few seconds later that he registered what the man had said. 

Sam didn’t respond, all he did was hang up. He grabbed his bag and took off from his seat. His long legs carried him quickly to the still only working elevator and Sam didn’t even feel any unease at the doors opening to a box full of people in expensive-looking suits and skirts. He wanted to get to the 13th floor faster.

Sam saw what door he wanted - it took him a second because he’d never been on a floor this high - and his heart skipped when he read “Dean Smith” on the door. 

_ So ‘Dean’  _ is  _ his name, _ Sam thinks. How Sam knew this before when his conscious mind didn’t, he was unsure about, but he didn’t really care. 

He passed through the door and saw Dean standing there in the office. He saw wide shoulders and thick legs. He moved his arms to do something that Sam couldn’t see because his back was to him, but the movement rippled the muscles in his back and shoulders. 

Sam felt a hot flash of  _ something _ go through him. Yes, Sam has now accepted that he finds the man attractive, but never before has another man been able to make him aroused. Sam wasn’t aroused fully, but if he kept thinking like he was

(of big shoulders and strong muscles, especially moving under his hands)

he was going to get there really fast. 

To distract himself and get Dean’s attention, he knocks on the solid door. As he steps in he notices the nice office. It was clean, organized, and well-kept. His desk, from what he could see, was being used by the few papers on there but still kept well. He had shelves on the walls with books and other knick-knacks that he didn’t think Dean would own. 

_ How do you know? _ Sam thinks harshly. He holds his breath in the second it takes Dean to turn around. 

“Come on in, shut the door.” 

Sam does as he’s told and listens to the silence of the room. When he turns back around - hands gripping the strap hanging over his shoulder nervously. He looks up and meets those intense eyes. Dean is standing behind his desk chair and he leans on his arms. 

Sam tries to trick his mind into believing he hadn’t seen the man buttoning up his shirt as he walked in.  _ If I was here a little sooner I could have seen him without one on… _

“Who the hell are you?” 

His quiet voice keeps Sam’s mind from straying any further. 

The question reminds Sam of the night before. The night he called Maddison’s number and got an animal hospital. Why? He remembers being really tired, but not too tired to not remember doubting his entire existence. Which was still very confusing.

Sam makes a sound in the back of his throat and sucks in a breath. He didn’t know how to answer the question because he just didn’t know. So he said just that, “I’m not sure I know,” it sounded awkward coming out and he finished it with a chuckle. 

Dean looked at him with confusion, Sam didn’t blame him. “What the hell does that mean?” 

Sam filled his lungs again and looked past Dean out the window. He didn’t know how to make it any clearer. It wasn’t like he had amnesia, he  _ knew _ who he was, in a sense. He’s just found a few mistakes in the plotline. And by that, he means his own memories. 

“Sam Wesson.” Sam figured he’d start with the basics. “I started here three weeks ago.” Sam rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels. 

Dean looks like he is processing it, “All right.” There’s a pause and his intense eyes are back on Sam’s. “You cornered me in the elevator, talking about  _ ghosts. _ And now…” he took a deep as if to say more but he just stopped. 

Sam’s eyes widen and they have a stare-off. The man seems reluctant to continue and Sam has never wanted to hear the rest of a sentence before. He feels the tension ripple up his spine and makes his hair stand on end. “Now what?” he ushered when waiting didn’t work, not that he gave the man - Dean - that much time.

The man -  _ Dean _ \- looked away from Sam. He looked away and swallowed loudly and seemingly winced - at what, Sam was clueless. Instead of standing there for Sam to continue to stare out, Dean turned around. He threw over his shoulder, “Now nothin’.” 

Sam watched as he walked over to the counter on the left side wall to grab a plastic bottle from the top. His face was pale and eyebrows clenched. It looked not right on his beautiful face. 

“I, uh..” His hand trembles while holding the glass - Sam realized it was a plastic container filled with a disgusting green liquid in it, it sloshed around in his hand. Sam’s eyes travel back to his face when he swallows and finishes what he is saying. “So, you started working here three works ago, huh?” 

The question stuns Sam into a strange silence, all he can do is frown and nod his head. Where was he going with this? 

“Me too.” 

Dean unscrews the top of the plastic bottle, the ones where the lid is connected to the actual bottle. “It’s uh, master cleanse,” he says. “You tried it?” 

Sam stood there, rocking back and forth on shaking legs and wobbly knees. He doesn’t know why his insides are clenching in such a painful way, or why looking at this man makes him want to be closer. Like them being strangers just  _ is not okay.  _ A deep, deep part of himself knew that this was not his life. Especially after last night… 

He also knew that this man was not just babbling. 

“Phenomenal. Detoxes you like nobody’s business…” he tilts the plastic bottle up and fills his mouth with the translucent green -  _ were those floaties?  _ \- liquid, Sam watches his cheeks bulge and hears him swallow loudly. Man, this guy makes a lot of sounds with his throat. 

Of course, Sam mind twists that into a dirty image. However, he’s never once before thought of another man choking on his cock before so he shakes his head as if to clear them away. He focuses then on watching Dean stare out in front of him for a second. 

A thought that’s been tickling in the back of Sam’s mind comes out, “When you were in that bathroom with Ian…” saying his name no longer brought any sort of grief. Which was weird - it should have been weird. Ian was his friend, and yet, his grief was over and packed away. It made him wonder if he’d done that before? “Did you see something?” 

Dean is rocking in his chair, mouth open, and eyes wide staring up at Sam. He starts to shake his head and say, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I saw.” 

Sam barely registers the confused and spooked look on the man’s face. He ignores how Dean looks up at him as if he was pleading. He just continued right along, “Wait. Are you saying that-” 

Dean isn’t jumping in. He isn’t saying anything, he just keeps  _ looking _ at Sam. 

“Did you…” Sam thinks  _ fuck it _ before he finishes his second freaky-ass question to this man. Except, this time he had valid reasoning. “...see a  _ ghost _ ?” 

“I was freaking out,” he sighed. He brought his hand up and waved it at his throat and neck area. “The guy penciled his  _ damn _ neck!” 

Excitement coursed through Sam now, he didn’t feel anything at the graphic description of Ian’s death. “You did, didn’t you?” 

He was looked at like he was crazy. And yet, he didn’t stop. 

“Okay, listen-” 

Dean drops his head and looks at his feet. Sam is on a role. 

“What if these suicides…” Again, talking about his friends here. He no longer felt any guilt for either Paul or Ian and that should be cause for alarm. But not his mind was racing too fast to think about such insignificant things. “... _ aren’t _ suicides? I mean, wuh-what if there’s something…” he struggles for the right word, his teeth clicking together for a second before, “...not natural?” 

Dean stares at him, his disbelief a solid force in the room. “So what- ghosts are real?” 

  


**4**

It took a little while longer for Dean to get more on board with that idea. It’s not that he mistrusted Sam, but he was still a little skeptical. 

Then Sam admitted to his “instinct” and the feeling in the back of his neck that this really was something  _ else _ . Dean agreed, said he felt the same. 

So they wanted to check things out. Like right now. 

Sam was so on board with that. 

And they made a fucking awesome team. Sam kicking in the door to get to the screaming man inside and Dean automatically grabbing the wrench that miraculously swished the ghost away. How they both weren’t filled with panic at all. Sam couldn’t help but feel like it was normal, a feeling more  _ deja vu _ than anything. 

Then, at the end of the day, after the ghost was gone and the guy rescued, Sam went home with Dean. Well, not  _ went home _ with him in  _ that _ sense, more rather, they both went back to Dean’s penthouse apartment. 

While they were walking out to his car - after a silent elevator ride down full of stuck up workers in monkey suits - Dean started to laugh.  Like,  _ really _ laugh. He stopped to hold his stomach and he swung his head back.  Sam watched him for a second and joined in himself. “What?” he asked through puffs of breath and tears in his eyes. 

Dean looked up at him, his face red and blotchy as Sam’s undoubtedly was, and said, “Dude, we fought a ghost. A fricken ghost!” he said with a hint of hysteria. 

Sam grinned. He shook his head and they continued to walk in the back corner of the parking lot where his prius sat. Sam knew which one it was immediately because Dean took out a remote started at the lights all lit up as it simultaneously started and unlocked. 

“You got a car to drive?” Dean asks him. 

Sam looks around and bites at the inside of his cheek. “Uhh..”  _ To lie or not to lie? _ He asks himself humorlessly. “Nah,” he tells the truth, “I usually just take the bus.” 

Dean nods towards his car and they both go to their respective sides. Their doors open at the same time and close at the same time, like its a practiced motion. Sam grits his teeth and pictures sleek black metal and screaming hinges. He settles down in the imitation-leather seat and looks across to where Dean sits on the other side of the center console. That too feels wrong to Sam, there should be nothing but open seat between him and Dean. 

_ What the hell are you thinking about? You don’t know this man. Sure you are going over to his house - not to do anything but fight this ghost. Just because you have dreams about him - which is fucking creepy - doesn’t mean you should stay with him the rest of your life. Again, you barely know that man.  _

For some reason, Sam had a hard time believing that. 

  


**5**

It was a few hours later that they were back in the car. This time, it was well after hours and they were heading towards Sandover instead of away. 

The short stay at Dean’s place was good. Sam had walked around admiring the high views from the floor to ceiling window wall and they had done research. The experts they had found - the Ghostfacers - had taught them everything they thought they needed to know to do this. They had had conversations that made Sam feel stupid and like his feelings were one-sided. Of course, he meant the deja vu feelings... nothing else.

“You ready?” Dean asked Sam as he slid the car smoothly into the parking space. 

Sam nodded and couldn’t help but notice the man’s expression. It was an age-old look of determination, of a man off to battle. In a sense, they were. However, Sam couldn’t look anywhere but the man’s face because he has seen this look before, he’s sure of it. 

“What?” Dean asked, pausing with his hand on the door handle. 

Sam began to lean forward but only realized what he was doing by those striking green eyes getting closer and closer. They weren’t awkwardly close yet, but Sam definitely noticed when Dean’s eyes skipped to his lips. 

“Sam,” he said with a sharp intake of breath.  _ What are you doing? _ being the unasked and unanswered question. 

“I…” Sam’s gaze attracted to the man’s lips. “Uhh… Just want to.. Say good luck.” 

Dean nods and takes the out. Sam can’t move until he shuts his door again. They don’t talk about that moment or why Sam’s face was flushed with embarrassment. Sam wasn’t sure why the sudden change in mood or tension. Why had they both looked like they wanted to kiss the other? Why had they  _ not _ done it? 

They didn’t talk about it. 

Just like they didn’t talk about the reason they were on opposite sides of the supply room when the security guard came and caught Sam. 

They’d been looking for something, anything that would lead to ghost when they’d bumped into each other. Instead of passing each other and moving on like normal people, Dean grabbed Sam’s hip and Sam stumbled and crashed into the other more, their chests pressed against each other now. 

Sam was ready to say, "oh sorry about that." But then- 

It was that hand on his hip, that controlling grip and made Sam pliant. They only looked at each other for two seconds - enough for Sam to notice the little bit of spittle on Dean’s bottom lip - before their faces were too close to see with uncrossed eyes. 

Dean kissed exactly like Sam thought he would. Full lips demanding and moving with Sam’s loose ones. Despite their height, it was obvious who was in control here. Dean's lips dominated Sam's and tilted his head one way and _demanded_ Sam move to accommodate him. It was hot and got Sam's blood moving a little faster.

“Mhmm…” Sam sighed out when Dean’s tongue licked Sam’s bottom teeth. 

The younger man had just opened up to allow the other’s tongue in when he was suddenly stripped away of all contact. The hand on his hip was gone, leaving behind the phantom warmth and the hand that had slid up his chest to grip his hair was gone, leaving behind the lonely itch of his scalp where his hair had been pulled in the direction Dean had wanted to take the kiss. 

When Sam blinked and opened his eyes fully, Dean was two rows down with his back to Sam. 

Sam sighed and turned around, heading to the desk under the window to look through. He pretended to not see the fingertip of Dean’s index finger tracing lightly over his own lips, tracing the feel of Sam’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot of time jumps here, but that was because there was a lot to get through and I didn't want the chapter to be outrageously long. Also, I was lazy and didn't want to write a bunch of filler scenes. 
> 
> I'm pretty sure this is one of the last chapters to include scenes from the actual episode. The rest will be just from my head, maybe. Not completely sure yet. 
> 
> Okay. Next update SHOULD be on Oct. 10th. I MARKED IT CORRECTLY IN MY PHONE THIS TIME!! (it's also the day the last season premieres and the day before my birthday, so I might post a little sooner?? Who knowwwws)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, friends! 
> 
> The whole world has been through a lot... I won't clog up this note by giving you all the excuses from the book because the truth is.. I just haven't been wanting to write. The Spider-Man shortie that I post a little while back was the first thing I'd written in months and the last thing I've touched since then. 
> 
> And then... less than a week ago I got hit with wild inspiration but no longer had a good enough laptop to type on. So I splurged a little and got myself a nice laptop and I literally opened it like eight hours ago, went to work for a few hours because money is important, came home, and cranked out this entire chapter in less than two hours. I don't remember the last time I've written this well or this quickly. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up, but I think the break is what I needed. I've got a month left before I move out and start a new life that will be better for me. My days of letting my writing suffer are over. 
> 
> And to my beautiful anonymous lurker... a better apology with be posted on my Tumblr. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me for making you wait long enough to think I gave up.

1

The flame was out, the gloves burnt, the ghost gone, and yet, Sam was still ablazed. As he stood in the lobby, blood-soaked shirt sticking to his chest hair, breath wheezing in and out of his mouth as adrenaline pushes on him from all angles, he watches the other man still sitting on the floor. 

“Did we really just…?” he slows down and doesn’t finish. 

Sam didn’t really know what was happening either. “Ye-ahh,” his breath stutters around the word. 

Then Dean grins up at him, sweat on his upper lip glistening in the fluorescent lights. Sam studies the way his thick tongue ventures out of his mouth to moisten his already wet lips. It must be the adrenaline because Sam is still hot and his breathing hasn’t calmed and Dean hasn’t looked away from him either. 

“C’mere,” he says, adjusting the way he’s sitting on the ground so that his back is more firmly against the way. 

Sam doesn’t know where ‘here’ is, so he just takes a few steps closer, his arms tensing and untensing like he does when he’s nervous about a situation. Only this was a nervousness for his own embarrassment though, a guttural part of him trusted Dean - maybe more than he even consciously realized?

“What?” Sam mumbles, standing close enough to not be considering _ looming _ over the other man, but not so far away that they have to talk in anything above a whisper. 

Dean doesn’t say anything, he just waves a hand closer and doesn’t make a move to stand up so Sam crouches down to his knees and sits even closer. Dean’s legs are spread wide enough to fit Sam’s large body mass between his feet. 

This wasn’t close enough for Dean, though. He sits up enough to lean forward and lessen the distance between them more so that Sam thinks there is a charged six inches between their noses and he can barely _ breath. _ What makes this man so intoxicating?

“Do you wanna kiss me again, Sam?” 

Sam feels his voice instead of hearing it. The deep rumbling timbre of it keeps Sam grounded and calms the nervousness in the pit of his stomach and he is reassured that this is right, that their bond is _ right _. 

“Sam?” Dean’s voice roughens a little around the edges, giving a little authority in the way he says it, making Sam want to roll over and show his belly - figuratively speaking, of course. 

But fuck, does he want to submit to the man in front of him. “Yes-” his voice comes out broken and scratchy from disuse so he clears his throat and tries again, “yu-yes, I want you to kiss me.” 

Dean smirks and Sam can’t stop staring at his face. His crystal-clear green eyes, his straight and even nose, the perfect curves of his cupid bow - it’s all so damn attractive. Sam can’t help but cave. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about earlier,” Dean’s saying. “I mean- we just killed a fricken ghost for Christ’s sakes! And yet here I am,” he pauses to lick his lips (for the third time since this conversation began - yes Sam is counting) and just to stare at Sam to drive him up the walls. Then he continues, “...doing nothing but thinking about kissing you.” 

His words, his voice, the images they are conjuring in Sam’s head does nothing to calm his breathing or his pulse - neither of which have to do with the adrenaline from earlier and have everything to do with his arousal - are eliciting some feelings. And Dean knows it, the smug little bastard. Sam knows he knows by the way he looks Sam up and down and smirks. 

Sam doesn’t know how to respond - a lot more often than not, this man makes him speechless - and so he doesn’t say anything. He just scooches closer, still in a crouched position and a good half foot taller than Dean, and continues to lessen the distance between them until it is almost too much to look into the man’s eyes without going cross-eyed. 

“Sam.”

“Yeah?” 

“I need you closer than that.”

“Sure thing, _ boss _.” 

The second kiss is much, much sweeter. 

Dean’s breath puffs over Sam’s face and all Sam can smell and taste is wholly _ Dean _ . The bland health smoothies from earlier are there, the stick of gum that they both shared’s taste clings to the back of their mouths and underneath all that Sam still experiences something uniquely _ Dean. _

“Fuck,” Dean breaths out when they separate moments later. All Sam can do is smile because yeah, it was _ that _ good. 

Sam laughs and goes in for more. His lips feel much more sensitive than they ever have and the squish of hot, smooth flesh against his own feels absolutely divine. They move together in sync - as if this is their 200th kiss rather than their second, and that same spark of arousal from being dominated is there for Sam once more. This time in the way Dean grabs a handful of his hair to redirect his head. 

“Perfect for moving ya,” Dean says between rapid-fire kisses, “right where I need ya.”

Somehow the talking makes it hotter. Maybe it’s not exactly what he’s saying, but the way he pulls Sam back by the hair just a tiny, tiny bit to have enough room to talk before Sam is pushing the hold Dean has on him to shove their lips back together. 

It’s when Sam starts to feel himself get hard - the pleasant pooling of arousal that had stayed low in his gut was now starting to fill his cock - is when he starts to pump the brakes. He doesn’t think they can actually get themselves off here in this hallway, nor would they even want that, so he doesn’t want to go any further. 

“Dean…” Sam sighs and pulls away. 

Dean looks up at him with heavily lidded eyes. Sam can tell the man wants to continue, but by the way his eyes blink and dart around the open space they are in, he realizes that they have both arrived at the same conclusion - they can’t continue here. Between the openness of the room and the fact that it’s a damn-near public floor which means security cameras, neither of them want to get caught with their pants down, literally. 

But oh, does Sam want this to continue. 

2

They decide that Dean’s private office on a higher floor in the building is the safest and closest place for them. They walk up the stairs - Sam was still wearing the yellow shirt now stained red, there was no way he’d be taking the elevator again tonight - in companionable silence. It was soothing, actually, to just hear the pounding of their steps as they travelled upward. 

Sam wasn’t sure what to expect once they got there, though. Would they just immediately continue where they left off and become entangled again? Would they talk first? Does Sam _ want _ there to be any talking? 

Turns out, they started the conversation just after they got on the right floor. Exiting the stairwell, Dean says, “So.. How many more uh- cases?... do you think there are out there?” 

It starts out smoothly but doesn’t stay that way. Sam tries to explain to Dean that hunting ghosts and everything alike is what they were meant to do, he runs into the issue of actually getting the other man to think the same way. As in, he was stopped by Dean’s immovable wall of contentment. Sam wasn’t content with his job at all, so he didn’t understand. 

“Details are everything!” Dean explodes, his hands make wide gestures while he speaks, “You don’t want to go fighting ghosts without any health insurance!”

Sam looks away, the other man’s slight hysteria was starting to eat at Sam’s resolve. Maybe he was right.. What was he thinking? Crappy motel rooms and stolen credit cards were crazy and wouldn’t get them very far. And yet, his mind flashes back to his dreams. Of himself and the man sitting next to him fighting the bad and uglies of the world. They were trying to make a difference and help those who couldn’t help themselves. Was that really so bad? So what if they had to lie a little to make some money to survive? 

He clears his throat and sighs, mouth tensing up in a frown. He wanted to tell Dean about this, he knows he definitely should. “All right, uhh..” he licks his lips again, “confession.” 

Dean looks over at Sam, his green eyes meet Sam’s and sends a jolt through the younger man. The disbelieving quirk of his eyebrows and lips intimidates Sam and reminds him of their kiss at the same time. “What?”

How can he make the man next to him believe? Sam looks away and clears his throat again, “Remember those dreams I told you about, with the ghosts?” He decided headfirst was the way to go. He’d realized only earlier that day that in his dreams, they were already partners of sorts. Given their current status together, he could only assume they are naturally romantic partners, that would explain how well they fit back together. 

“Yeah…” his skepticism was very strong. 

“I was fighting them…” 

“Okay?”

“...with you.”

His logic didn’t work on Dean. He tried to tell him about trying to call his girlfriend and getting an animal hospital, he tried to ask about Dean’s early memories and about his family. Sam thought he was really getting through with him on that last one, he watched his face crunch under the weight of his mind battling with itself. Even then, he thought the man was attractive and the fire he felt - being much more than arousal burning him from the inside out - was stronger than ever. He knew, in his gut, that this isn’t what they were supposed to be. They were more.

Sam vocalized that thought and he knew he lost Dean the moment he said the words, “I know you.”

Dean levels him with an even gaze, his lips twisting into a mean smile. “Know me?” he echos. Sam’s heartbeat reverberated into his throat, drying it out as he tried to swallow. He knew he lost this fight on the tone of Dean’s voice alone, his next words confirm this. “You don’t know me, pal.”

All they can do is stare at each other. _ ‘Pal’ _ rings harshly between them. ‘Pal’s don’t typically know what each others’ tongue tastes like.

“You should go-”

“No,” Sam stops him. He steps up closer to him, moving past the furniture that was between them. He didn’t care that he was getting into the guys face - as close as they were when they were both standing in the storage room earlier that night when they had kissed, his mind supplies happily against his will - because he wanted to get his point across. Except that distraction is a bitch. 

“Sam..” Dean breaths.

Sam feels the thrill goes through him. He feels the power that comes with taking the first step - that first _ dominant _step. This wasn’t Sam Wesson, he didn’t really know who he was, but not this. These new feelings were addicting and he was hooked on the way Dean’s eyes followed the track of his tongue across his lips as he wetted them down. And on the way the man’s breathing sped up and his mouth opened around his literal pants. 

“Still think we’re strangers?” Sam says, unable to deny how much lower his voice got. He felt arousal low in his gut and wondered if Dean could feel it too. 

“I don’t…” he pauses and swallows thickly, “I don’t know you.” 

“Hmm,” Sam disapproved and leaned down a little. Their lips were lined up, but not touching. “Do you want me to walk out of this room and for us to go back to being strangers? Living these lies of our lives?” 

“...no?” It came out like a question. 

Sam Wesson’s anxiety came flooding back. “No?” he echos. He takes a few steps back and clears the air between them. He nods at the other man, completely losing all of his confidence. Now with a deeper, almost sadder tone, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m going to just… go..” Sam turns and ducks out of the room. 

The heat of their flame and his embarrassment keeps him warm on his cold walk back to his apartment. What the hell was that? Where was the sudden confidence and why had it gone as quickly as it shone? What the hell was happening to him?

3

Days later, sitting in that cubicle again is a literal hell. So he burns that up too. 

4

It’s that same day that his memories return. 

Sam had just gotten back to his apartment, a feeling of confusion and regret soaking in because damn that was a nice job, boring as hell maybe, but it paid the bills. 

“What bills?” he asks himself. His voice out loud made him jump, it sounded weak and shallow - which is very attuned to how he was feeling that moment.

Then he’s got himself thinking for a second because _ when did he start paying bills? The most him or Dean have paid for is the motel rooms and even then they never had to get a paying job for- _There was a solid twenty seconds where he froze. Sam Winchester doesn’t wear bright yellow shirts or work in a cubicle. What the hell is going on?

He blinks and stares into his apartment. There wasn’t much because he had moved out rather quickly… because he found… _ What was he even thinking about? _

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end and his stomach twists into an ugly knot. Maybe his lunch will make a reappearance. _ Where was he and how did he get here? _

He whips around the apartment, trying to find any clues that would give him a sense of anything. He checks his phone and gets a hold on what day it’s been and how long he’s been this other… _ Sam Wesson _. 

The next thoughts that go through his consciousness ruins everything. First: Where’s Dean? And then second: Oh my God, _ Dean _. 

Dean.

His _ brother Dean _. 

His brother that had kissed him. 

And then had kissed him again. With tongue. And wandering hands. And panting breaths and-

Fuck. _ Fuck. _

His lunch does make a reappearance then, all over the dinky sink in his apartment’s small kitchen. This wasn’t even his home, so he doesn’t feel bad for grabbing his bag that he knew his wallet and essentials were in and bolted out the door. 

5

He didn’t know where he was going until he was back on the elevator that has fucked up his entire relationship with his brother. _ You don’t know how much Dean even remembers... _

Sam knocks out two security guards on his way up to Dean Smith’s office on the high level. He runs down the hallway, not regarding any of the looks that assclowns in business suits are shooting his way. Vaguely, he hears someone else yell for security and why wouldn’t they? Some big guy obviously not from this high up in the building comes racing through, drenched in sweat, smelling like God knows what? He is quite the sight. 

All of that doesn’t matter. What matters is how Dean looks like he’s been crying when Sam bursts in and his brother jerks his head up. He looks like he was sitting in his chair with his head down. 

“Sam?” He gasps out. 

“I just..” Sam pants out. He’s not worked up like this just from the run over here. Sam Winchester has the strength to run laps twice, three times the distance he has today. His blood is pumping and his lungs restricting in on themselves because of the condition his brother is in. He just _ knows _ Dean was thinking about their kiss because he _ knows Dean. _

“I was just..” he can’t seem to get the rest of the sentence out. He can’t stop thinking about a time where he forgot _ it was his brother and oh MY GOD, I KISSED MY BROTHER _. 

“Yeah,” Dean wipes at his face - Sam doesn’t mention or barely acknowledges that he’s wiping away his tears - and stands up. “I get it.” 

Dean walks up to Sam, stepping dangerously close, and Sam’s heart stutters. Then Dean’s wrapping Sam into a hug and the younger brother’s breath hiccups as he buries his face into Dean’s neck. He missed his brother and once all of the confusion clears they will both have to deal with this, he just knows it. They step back and Sam can’t look Dean in the eyes, he’s too ashamed. Too ashamed of how much he liked-

No. 

He can’t think like that. Not now, not ever. He needs to stop thinking about _ full lips demanding and moving with Sam’s- _No. Please, if there is a God, have mercy?

“It was the angels, you know?” Dean says, saving Sam from his inner turmoil. Dean is always saving him. Forever and always. 

“Yeah,” Sam coughs, bringing a hand up to his mouth to wipe roughly at his lips to get the phantom feeling of _ Dean _ off of them. He ignores the way the other man tracks the movement a little too closely and tries to concentrate on what Dean is _ saying _ and not _ how _ his _ lips are saying it _ as he explained what Zachariah told him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one! You get a little taste of some Wincest action and then a lot more angst to smother it all! Just my specialty ;)
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are so very gratefully appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, prompts are open.
> 
> Tumblr: https://only-useless-fanfictions.tumblr.com  
Email: uselessfanfictions.writing@gmail.com  
(Newly added)Discord: heyyy_yaaa67#2067
> 
> Just, whenever you wanna talk to me, mentioned that you're from Ao3 or Tumblr so that I know you're not some weirdo trying to slide into my DMs, hahaha!!


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